


What Are We Playing At? (I’m Game If You Are)

by imaginedandreal



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-05-24 21:07:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14962182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginedandreal/pseuds/imaginedandreal
Summary: How the little interviews, slip-ups, and other “newlywed games” affected our favorite business partnership.





	1. Chapter 1

Scott knew that all those stupid  _ games  _ would do more harm than good.

 

The little interviews and videos and other ridiculous stuff they did in front of the camera to amuse the fans - everything started harmless enough, but somehow spun out of control in time.

 

It began with literally one hundred, not zero.

 

An actual goddamn photoshoot of them as a bride and groom. 

 

_ No, let that sink in _ , Scott thought to himself, during all the preparations.  _ You and Tess. You in a suit and a tie, she in all these different beautiful dresses. As not just anyone’s bride, but playing your bride. Yours.  _

“Oh, Scott, come on, won’t it be fun?” Tessa persuaded him, a while before. “It’s not like it will be  _ for real.  _ We will just play dress-up.” 

Scott couldn’t explain why indeed did his heart sink when she reminded him that it would not be real. But then again, he had been the weirdly reluctant one to do this. Tessa didn’t notice, or so it had seemed.  _ Stupid fool _ , he told himself off in his head.  _ Of course it’s your sappy ass that’s planning everything five years in advance. Just because you are in love may not mean that she returns the feeling, may not mean that she’s headlong into this, forever, and it certainly doesn’t mean that she wants marriage in the foreseeable future.  _

But he hoped, hoped,  _ hoped  _ that she at least sometimes dreamed of the same as he did now.

Of being his bride, and wife, not on paper, not for anyone’s benefit, but because she wanted him to be her true husband.

He chose not to entertain those trains of thoughts for now. 

What he thought of, at first, were the fans.

 

Yes, he and Tessa had already blown their cover so many times during their performances. To conceal their chemistry and their interaction together would be like squeezing water inside a fist: completely useless. This photoshoot, though, won’t just reinforce the rumors, Scott realized. It will dump a whole gallon of gasoline into that fire. Really. Canada’s Sweethearts, Virtue and Moir. Saying they are platonic business partners and then posing as newlyweds (even for a magazine). L for logic. Scott had to laugh at the irony, as he reflected on it. 

 

Both of them, though, never made a step forward in discussing what exactly was between them. It was lingering there in the aftertouch of every hug and handhold, in the afterthought of all that was unsaid and remained unspoken. For now.

 

The next time Tessa checked in with him to confirm his participation, he was all chipper enthusiasm.

As a matter of fact, why would he continue to refuse this damned shoot? It was Tessa who would be there with him, not some random girl (as much as he respected women). His Tessa. He couldn’t lie to himself about being excited to see her in bridal attire, even on purpose. Even if it wasn’t real. Who knew, maybe the whole experience would really turn out fun. And he suddenly didn’t even care about how any fans will react. This was his and Tessa’s choice...and, he mused, smiling, at least he would see what she looks like in a wedding dress so that, in case of their hypothetical wedding, he wouldn’t drop unconscious from joy seeing her like that in reality.

 

“Tessa, Scott...we’re so honored to work with you...you have such a strong, vibrant chemistry together...this is why we chose you two...and so photogenic, too…”

On and on and on. The lead stylist who appeared to be in charge of the project sounded as if she quite literally had no filter. Or was really 14 years old in disguise. Or, once again, was a mature-looking 14 year-old without a filter, because ‘vibrant chemistry’? Scott resisted the desire to roll his eyes. But, their own fault, he concluded, that their efforts to keep things on the down-low weren’t giving much result. 

Tessa, beside him, was beaming and accepting a froth of an ivory dress and a purer white gown from the stylist. 

“Awesome!” she commented, looking at the pile of chiffon and lacy silk in her arms. She turned such a sparkling smile to Scott that his stomach immediately began a crazy butterfly-filled party. He realized that he was smiling back at her in what he hoped wasn’t a stupid-looking way, so he quickly turned away and pretended to be interested in the fabric of the suit jacket that he was to wear.

“Help me put this on, Stephanie,” Tessa asked the stylist, meanwhile, and Scott had a chance to catch a breath after that beautiful smile of hers. Stephanie obliged, whisking her away. Scott still caught how the woman winked at him, and he didn’t like the insinuation behind that wink. Oh, their ‘chemistry’ will be out in the open in every photo. He was sure of it, even more so than before. 

Scott barely paid attention to Stephanie’s assistant, who was helping him into his tuxedo. Everything looked very serious: impossibly starched and crisp white shirt, shoes polished bright, and, on top of everything, a cake was wheeled in to the room. Not just any cake, either - a real, many-tiered, decorated wedding cake.

Wedding magazine photoshoots weren’t a laughing matter, apparently.

_ Why the hell am I jittery _ ? Scott couldn’t place his abrupt anxiety.  _ I’m not a two year-old child that has never been in front of a camera… _

So he shuffled his feet, waiting.

Until…

 

If he wasn’t sure that his smile was dumbstruck before, he knew it must have definitely been so when Tessa walked out of the changing cubicle. And she was in that column of an ivory dress, molded to her figure, cinched at the waist with a satin sash. Scott gaped at her, and, in a blink, forgot that, in her own words,  _ this wasn’t for real. _

_ Get over yourself. _

_ Stephanie is staring. _

_ So is the camera woman. _

_ The cake guy is trying not to laugh over there. _

“So…” Was that nervousness in Tessa’s smile? “What do you think?” She twirled around, and the dress fanned out at her feet the smallest bit. “How am I going to look on the cover?”

Scott cleared his throat.  _ You will look every inch the glowing bride,  _ he answered her mentally. _ No way in hell will the fans think we’re platonic now.  _ The spell was over, though, as soon as he heard her mention the magazine. “You...uh, you look great, Tess.”

Tessa smiled, and - interestingly enough - blushed. “You look pretty good yourself.”

“You two are so cute!” Stephanie gushed, again reverting to some teenage fangirl mode. Scott barely could stop his eyes from rolling, again. And yet, he could handle all the gushing in the world, he thought, as long as he could admire Tessa, his Tess, his beloved T, looking as she did in his daydreams (because no, his mental eye didn’t always paint an R-rated image of his partner-possibly-girlfriend-hopefully-future-wife). 

“Scott?” Tessa was looking at him, full of concern, but that didn’t take away from how positively gorgeous she looked in the wedding dress.

_ Just get the hell over yourself, will you _ ?

_ Snap _ . Him and Tessa leaning into each other’s shoulders, gazing off to the camera.

_ Snap _ . Tessa looking up at him with the sweetest smile, while he gazed into her eyes, holding her hand to his chest.

_ Can’t she feel how my heart is beating? Can’t she tell from the look in my eyes that I love her more than anything?  _

_ Snapsnap _ . Stephanie told him to hold Tessa up, as if they were dancing. He gazing up at her, who looked like a soaring swan in his arms.

_ Snapsnapsnap _ . Tessa and him with the cake, at last. Scott put on a goofy expression on purpose, because he could not handle anymore of looking at Tessa like a lovesick primary school kid. And Tessa…even her relaxed, amused pose near the cake stand was graceful. Beautiful. 

When the shoot was over, Scott realized it, fully and clearly, yet again.

He will never marry, unless, by some miracle, his future wife is Tessa. 

He wanted all this with her. For real, not in any pretend way. The dress, the suit, the cake. With his Tess and nobody else. 

Tessa had turned to him, when they were getting ready to leave. “Thanks, Scott.”

He blinked, taken by surprise. “For what?” He was dumbstruck by how green her eyes were, for the ten millionth time. 

“I had fun today.” Before he replied, she squeezed her hand and laughed a little, as if she was doing something silly.

Scott gazed at her. “I had fun, too,” he confessed, in a tone with which people usually confess love. 

_ Did she notice it? _

_ What did she think about it? _

_ Well, no matter what she made of it, he couldn’t not love her. It was like telling fire not to burn.  _

 

“You look so serious in some of these,” Tessa pointed out to him, when they looked over the finished article later on. Though, even as she said it, she didn’t sound disappointed. 

Scott examined their photographs, mentally re-living the experience. Of course he was serious. He had been seriously cursing himself for signing up for a scheme which not only did  _ not  _ distract him from those budding emotions for his  _ partner-possibly-girlfriend-hopefully-future-wife,  _ but magnified the emotions by several times. 

“I guess I had the feeling of...you know, playing a role? Like we do on ice? It wasn’t so hard, actually. I liked it a lot.” he told her, with his usual honesty, except…He’d slipped. Said too much. Told the girl he liked,  _ loved _ , that he enjoyed playing her groom for a couple photos. So smooth.  

Tessa’s gaze strayed away from the magazine page. She faced him directly. 

_ Why must her goddamn eyes be so gorgeous? _

“So did I,” she said at last, so quietly that he at first thought he imagined it. The pale ivory of her cheeks colored a bit. 

Scott’s heart quickened again, and he felt his palm sweat slightly under the half of the magazine that he held. Why couldn’t he, famed for his spontaneity and outgoing personality, just jump into it and tell her everything? What if she was just playing, his treacherous mind whispered. What if this is unrequited, and you’ll shrivel away pining for her from now on?

Tessa smiled at him again and made him compliments on the suit he wore on set. This raised the hope in Scott’s chest somewhat. She did care at least about how he looked, if not about how he felt. 

They finished looking at the article, and for some reason left the magazine lying on the coffee table of her living room. A true elephant in the room if ever Scott knew one. 

But then, why did she blush and smile every time someone made a big deal out of this photoshoot (and their performances generally)? 

How many of those ‘games,’ deceptively casual little giveaways would it take for them to crack and honestly unpack this wonderfully tangled relationship of theirs? Who would give in first? Figuring that out was a game in itself. 

They had no choice but to get set and go, without truly being ready. 


	2. Chapter 2

Then it was 2016.

 

The  _ Newlyweds Game _ .

 

Scott couldn’t believe what they had to do on camera, in front of pretty much the whole world. Did it  _ have  _ to be called that?

 

Damn Skate Canada. Damn it all. As if the  _ Today’s Bride  _ shoot a few years ago wasn’t enough. He could only hope that he wouldn’t say anything stupid or embarrassing...

 

“Anything sleep-related is me,” Tessa said, smiling as she erased her whiteboard.    
“If you get to sleep. Sometimes you’re just so restless...” Scott replied to that with a chuckle. The danger of the answer didn’t catch up to him.

A nanosecond later, it did.

_ Shit. _

_ Shit. _

_ SHIT. _

If anyone could see the inside of his mind at that moment, there would be flashing red lights and sirens wailing all around. God, think of something, you dumbass! He screamed at himself. 

“...I’ve read,” he muttered uncertainly at last, rubbing at his whiteboard as if he were told he’d be paid for erasing it. 

He knew Tessa’s expression was one serious side-eye without even looking at her.

But then again, he thought, angry at himself later, it’s not like he was  _ lying _ ! Tessa could be quite a restless sleeper, and it wasn’t some huge character flaw.

Except he’d said it in a way that now had their entire fanbase certain that they were a thing.

Ha! He wished, Scott thought, anger melting into bitter irony.

To make it somehow worse, they had shared beds (and couches) in the past. Not in any sexual context, but they did. Anything could be a reason: homesickness or a mutual bout of the flu, drunk conversations that were more clumsy cuddling than talking, movie watching, and just...Scott couldn’t name it anything other than ‘being together.’ 

How he loved to hold Tessa when it was just the two of them, without anyone else’s curious eyes. How he relished secretly inhaling the warm strawberry of her hair, while they talked, or while she nodded off in his arms. Of course, it wasn’t without an awkward moment here and there, as he would sometimes have an uncontrollable  _ physical issue  _ after being in such closeness with the girl he was attracted to. He figured that if he didn’t mention it, Tessa won’t either. Apart from  _ that _ , they became expert cuddlers.

Kind of pathetic, really, he scoffed to himself. Platonic skaters, platonic cuddlers....What else would turn out to be ‘platonic’ for them down the road? How much more of this gentlemanly restraint would he show, before snapping and doing something illicit, like kissing her? (or, God forbid, accidentally touching her somewhere he shouldn’t?)

But Tessa herself...he was damned if he wasn’t sure that she enjoyed this...cuddly behavior from him. She gave him the warmest hugs back, and never flinched away when he’d play with her hair absentmindedly. He loved touching her. Loved holding her. In short, he loved her, as he now knew for certain. He loved just to be near her. 

He still hoped she would someday feel the same.

So there, he thought, after they finished that God-awkward ‘newlywed’ thing. Them sharing a bed wasn’t something dirty or wrong, at least when he didn’t blurt it out in front of a freaking camera. Though, he had to say he had good fun at that game with all the other questions, and Tessa looked like she did, too. After, that is, they raced on from the first question about sleeping and all.

“Hey, Scott?” Tessa addressed him, not long after. They sat on the couch in their hotel in Regina, having taken a pause from all the public events. “That thing about me being restless while sleeping -” 

She looked...wary...no...sorry...no, not that, either...cautious, Scott decided. 

“I know,” he caught up, quickly, but gently. “I’m sorry, T. I definitely didn’t think that one through. The last thing I wanted is to make idiots out of us.” He reached for her hand, half-realizing that he did. 

Tessa was silent for a moment. Then, to Scott’s surprise, she laughed softly.

“I guess we walked into it. We did always like our cuddling, didn’t we.” 

_ Did Tess just flirt with him or what?  _ It seemed like Scott reverted to a sixteen year-old from the excitement. 

Pale pink crept over Tessa’s cheeks. “Um...so what do you think we Skype my mom and Jordan and listen to them complain about how rarely we call them?”

He couldn’t breathe right. She said ‘we.’ Not for the first time, Scott felt like a husband about to talk to the in-laws.

“Um...Scott?”

“Yeah?” Talking was such an easy task, until he had to do it while gazing into  _ gorgeous green eyes. _

“It’s kind of hard for me to go fetch my laptop when you’re holding my hand.”

He glanced down, and it was his turn to feel hot in the face. What could he say, other than it was so natural to hold her hand that he hardly thought anything of it. And yet, he released her gently. 

She giggled.

So did he.  _ Stop acting like a lovesick kid, Moir. _

“And, you know what?” He blinked, trying not to fall back under the spell of her eyes.

“We can ask Mom - or Jordan - if they ever read anywhere that I’m restless before falling asleep.” A wink, and off she went to another room.

_ No, that must have been flirting. _

He added a bit of kindling into the flame of hope in his chest.

The game was still on.

 

*

Right before PyeongChang, they were invited to the Globe and Mail interview, and Tessa grew anxious. There was so much that she could accidentally spill on camera. 

_ How well do Scott Moir and Tessa Virtue know each other? _

The Globe and Mail would ask them the mother of all loaded questions, without realizing it. Tessa spent one morning staring at her phone’s calendar, with “G and M quizerview” marked for January 2, 2018. What could she personally, for example, tell the interviewer?

_ I know everything about Scott. I have spent twenty marvelous years studying this man, and twenty more would hardly be enough. I know every detail of him: physical and otherwise. I know at what time he likes to wake up in the morning, and which of his favorite country music unwinds him in the evening. I know what flavor of smoothie he prefers, and what type of tea he likes me to make him if he comes down with a cold. I know that he would keep his hair shorter, but he doesn’t cut it much simply because I once told him that it looked good when it was longer. I know that he kisses me on the forehead every time when I’m still asleep if we stay in a hotel room somewhere and have to go separate ways for the day. He does it gently, so I don’t wake up, but I feel it every time. And it makes me feel like sunlight spilling everywhere inside me. I’m so far gone for him that the most innocent gesture seems the sweetest.  _

_ I know he can come to me with any worry or secret or confession, beginning with his fear of mascots, and ending with the direction of our career. He gave me the passwords to everything he owns, such as his laptop, though I would never dare use it without his permission. He knows that I’d never betray him or invade his private space, and that I know he has no harmful secrets from me. It’s an incredible feeling to be trusted to such a degree.  _

_ I know, most of all, that I have loved him, everything he was, is, and would become, since I was a teenager, if not a child. I have loved him in every situation, even when he didn’t talk to me in the time of my surgeries, or when he dated other girls and I had to witness it from a distance.  _

_ I love him. I love him so much it even hurts sometimes, but in the most blissful way, as strange as I realize it is. It’s a complicated and not really undefinable feeling, but I feel it so much for him. We are each other’s, just because some definition of fate or luck had decided that we will be together. And I would not trade it for anything. This love has blossomed, matured along with me, and was granted to me through every trouble and hardship that we had to face. At the same time, it’s a blessing given from somewhere immortal, somewhere outside our comprehension. I think it was just meant to be this way. _

_ That is all we know of each other. It’s never to be explained, since no one but us will understand it to the fullest. _

_ He doesn't love me like he can love, like I desire him to love me. Maybe not yet. _

_ Will he ever? _

Tessa would shake her head to herself. No, of course not. Spilling all of that to the interviewer, as curious as he might be, would be like reading out loud from her diary. Only Scott could open those pages of her soul and see them. She has entrusted her heart and soul to him a long time ago. Was she really nobody else but a friend, even if she were a good one? Was there nothing deeper hidden in the multitude of layers in their relationship?

_He does not see me as anything more than a friend. At any rate, he hasn’t made it obvious thus far. We are adults now, and we have progressed no further than we did since our little ‘dating’ stint as children. It’s sad, of course, but it appears to be true. We have told each other ‘I love you’ so often, that I have become used to living with it as a platonic affirmation of ‘I love you as a person.’ Still...how my entire being craves for it to be ‘I, a man, love you as a woman, besides my skating partner and friend.’ The woman in me has long been yearning to be_ _with the man that he is. Be fully, not just to achieve a common goal as champions._

_ So many of our programs were based on these beautiful stories of love, of desire, of passion and joy and sorrow and thousands of emotions in between...How would I know if he kissed me during this or that performance because his character demanded it - and not because he was trying to communicate his true feelings? But I would know, wouldn’t I? I’d sense it... _

_This love, too, isn’t just a source of happiness to me, it’s also a great danger and fills me with fear sometimes. I am so scared. I’m scared that one of us will get injured beyond recovery, and that we won’t be able to skate together as always. I’m scared that a third person come between us - a woman, of course, who would whisk Scott away from me, after proving herself smarter, more attractive, worthier than I am. Why not another man for me? Well, it’s simple. Me and all my ‘Ryans’ from the past were nothing but mistakes, obstacles that prevented me (when I was younger and stupider) from seeing_ who _was there all along._

 _I’m still terrified, to the point of nightmares, that he will wake up one day and decide that he is sick and tired of his same old partner, and leave me and our skating. Not like he did when he ran away from my injuries, but came back. For good. The thought is enough to make me want to die. Maybe I would not die in the literal sense if he leaves, but I would where my heart is concerned. There wouldn’t be a life for me without him. I_ _wouldn’t live - only exist, if he ever leaves._

 _But I know he won’t. He’s my good, pure-hearted,_ loyal _Scott, and he will never abandon me again. I know it, because I feel it with every nerve of my body. He had come back to me all this time ago because he wanted to skate with me; and so what if he returned only as a partner? He even said in an interview that he came back to do it for me. For_ me _! How overjoyed I was to hear such an attitude towards me. Not just from anyone random, either, but from the man I had grown to love with everything I have in me. I returned with him to the ice to conquer it, and I promised to myself and to him that I will be the best possible partner to him, so he is as proud and happy to skate with me as I am._

_ Then, there’s the public. They have latched onto the idea of us two as romantic partners, not only two skaters. So many articles and tweets and blog posts speculating about how to define our relationship. How could they, indeed, define it, if we ourselves haven’t been able to do it? Dating, hooking up, and all the other labels sound so cheap when one applies it to us. Regardless of the fact that we hadn’t done anything like that. We just are, and we now excel at being together, under whatever context it may be. _

_ We have been preparing for PyeongChang, and it’s approaching ever closer. I’ve always been good at masking my emotions, because I dislike it when the outside world sees my vulnerability. Obviously, the dancing doesn’t count. No one, not even Scott himself, should know about my feelings right now. It’s not the right time yet. But Patch, and especially Marie, they suspect. I sometimes notice their little examining looks towards us, and I’m scared like a little girl with a crush that they will hear how wildly my heart beats when Scott so much as smiles at me. They would guess that about me, after all. They are Patrice Lauzon and Marie-France Dubreuil, two fantastic skaters who became a married couple; they are living proof that one  _ can  _ mix the professional with the personal. Stellar role models for us, on ice...and possibly even off.  _

_ What if Scott and I are similar? Once, I had overheard Scott talking to Danny, the second most trusted person for him, aside from me. It was sometime recently, too. He told Danny that he’d never met the woman with whom he would want to spend the rest of his life yet. Why did he say that? What if that woman is me? Me and Scott, the new Marie and Patch, dancing our love from ice and into the rest of our lives. How amazing that would be. _

_ But I am an adult, as seductive as this fairytale scenario is. I can’t let myself be distracted by daydreams. I must force myself to remember who I am first and foremost: Tessa Virtue, ice dancer. I must focus on the goal before us - that coveted gold medal. Scott admitted that he’s scared that the judges will score in favor of Gabriella and Guillaume, but I know that this is it. We have worked so indescribably much to achieve even the participation in these Olympics. Yes, Sochi will forever be a stinging disappointment. But we moved on. PyeongChang isn’t just an achievement, it’s also an enormous responsibility to prove our resilience and determination. Scott moved on. I moved on. Together and individually. And I can’t, I have no right to let him down. He is by my side, so I’m not afraid of the judging or anything else quite so much. My Scott is with me, and he believes in me even more than I do.  _

_ We will shine this time. We will make our dream come true. I’m confident that we will.  _

 

The two of them sat before the cameras, in matching ‘Canada’ t-shirts.

“Hi, I’m Tessa Virtue.”

“And I’m Scott Moir.”

“And we are ice dancers.”

“And you’ve been together for how long?”

_ Oh _ .

_ No, he didn’t just ask that,  _ two shocked brains thought simultaneously.

Scott stilled for a second. He made himself not glance over at Tessa. Time hung suspended for a taut split second.

_ Why would the goddamn guy word it like that?! _

“We’ve been skating together for twenty years,” Tessa said, her voice and smile calm and collected. Ever the poised celebrity.

But Scott would not be himself without a hint of mischief, so he tested the waters further. “We’ve been skating together for twenty years,” he echoed, seeing Tessa’s fond smile out of the corner of his eye. He put the slight, but firm emphasis on  _ skating.  _ Don’t get any ideas, Mr. Interviewer. “You don’t remember your life without me.” 

_ No, I don’t,  _ Tessa agreed silently. That was absolutely true. She was seven when she met Scott, but she might as well have grown up with him from the cradle. 

A few standard questions about favorite music and least favorite elements and such, and, at last…

Tessa’s intuition sensed a trick question coming.

“What advice do you have for couples?”

Scott chuckled, in a clearly nervous manner, and Tessa, mentally promising herself to sue Skate Canada entirely, attempted to power through as gracefully as she was able to. She reflected on it for a beat or two.

“Just...understanding the root of...of another person’s insecurities and defense mechanisms, it just helps the communication. You know, something like,” she faced Scott sideways, “I appreciate where you’re coming from, in a different way.”

That was surprisingly easy, she thought. She was, honestly, describing her relationship with Scott, post the entire shebang with the marriage counseling, post-Sochi, as they grew with each other over time.

Way to go philosophical on that. “Hah, that was surprisingly deep,” she added, with a rueful smile.

Scott grinned back. “No, no, that was great,” he reassured her. Those soft hazel eyes, and that warm tone of voice told her that she had his full support of what she said.

Exactly as she just answered. She gave an opinion, and he respected and supported her, no matter that it was a silly interview.

Because he was  _ her  _ Scott.

And she was determined to show him how she loved him. To prove to him that their partnership was the furthest thing away from a game. 


	3. Chapter 3

_ “I love you.” _

 

Scott had said it for what felt like the hundredth time, but the emotion filled him up to the brim. He was shaking with joy, with relief, and with this feeling of total and absolute love for her. He clutched Tessa so close it was as if he wished for their bodies to fuse into one, and even then they wouldn’t be close enough. He wasn’t sure what made tears appear in his eyes - the realization of their victory, or her delightful laughter, mingled with crying. 

The stadium was roaring with applause, but he heard nothing, and was conscious only of this. Of her in his arms. Of their victorious embrace. Her heartbeat pulsing somewhere against his own chest, and her giddy trembling as she embraced him too. 

Through the blood pounding in his ears, he could make out her voice that whispered tremulously against his ear. The same three words, and a fourth one. 

_ I love you, too. _

She pulled back to smile at him, an expression dazzling because of its beauty, and he almost shut his eyes. She was brilliant like the sun. He could hardly bear looking at her shine directly. So he grasped her to bury his face into her shoulder and cling to her. Tessa’s fingertips were digging into his back, her arms and chest and waist and entire body just so warm, that it felt like coming home after being absent for the longest time. After being stuck somewhere cold and empty, and suddenly being full of warmth, of light, of hope.

They came home to a happy ice rink, a triumphant one. After so many disappointing rinks, full of loss. That’s where they belonged together, now and forever. 

He and his Tess came home.  _ This _ was home. Not Ilderton or London or Montreal. Not a place, not a room, nothing that could be found on Google Maps or flown to or driven to in a car.

Just this. An embrace. A heart that returned to its proper place - love and joy, wrapped in success just for good measure.

 

A considerable amount of time later, they returned to his hotel room, still both exhilarated from the celebration. Scott stepped aside to let Tessa pass through the door, and she scrambled in, flopping onto the bed like a giddy child. Chuckling himself, he perched near her. After several beats of staring at the ceiling in happy silence, she sat up to look right at him.

_ Relax,  _ he reminded himself.  _ It’s just Tessa’s eyes. _

That was the whole point, too. He found himself mesmerized, as he was wont to be so often now. Those eyes became his whole world, and he felt a rush of adoration every time his own met them. 

“So…” he grinned at her, some nervousness mixing in with his happiness, “we did that.”

Tessa smiled, and Scott’s heart skipped with a  _ thud.  _

“Yes.” She stretched out the word, putting overjoyed emphasis. “ _ We did _ .”

He let himself gaze into her eyes for a moment more, and then sprang up. “Champagne?”

“Ooh, yeah. We definitely owe each other a toast,” she agreed, clasping her hands together and looking adorably eager. He laughed softly, and went to retrieve the bottle that he had stashed for exactly this occasion. Which they  _ accomplished together.  _ It was still a surreal thought. 

Yes, they had all the reason to celebrate with some fizz. But if he were completely honest, he offered it mostly because he needed to occupy himself before he let his caution go and spoke any dangerous things - or even worse, did anything equally dangerous. And he was bound to, with  _ her  _ so near him and looking so accomplished and proud of them and  _ gorgeous _ , with all that.

The bottle was soon opened with a  _ pop  _ and another small happy squeal from Tessa. She raised her glass at Scott.

“Well. To us?”

He gave her his warmest, proudest smile. Inside, he was all fizzing with joy still, just like the drink they were about to enjoy.

“To us, Tess.”

They both sipped it, sitting side by side. A glass became another; in due time, the bottle emptied. The two of them didn’t move, anyway, only exchanging glances. Little fleeting gestures, that spoke volumes.

_ I love you. Thank you so much, for everything. I mean it. Everything.  _

_ I couldn’t have done it without you by my side.  _

And then Scott felt a delicate touch to his hand that was on the bed between them. He returned her gentle squeeze.

“What is it, T?”

_ God, how beautiful she is. I almost can’t stand to look at her. I can’t. I swear I’ll just grab her and kiss her, and to hell with the consequences. _

Her eyes took on a shine that only meant she was under great emotion. “Can I just say something?”

_ What does she mean by that? What’s ‘something’?  _

_ What if it’s to tell me she loves me. Loves me for real. _

_ Shut up, you sappy lovesick idiot. Of course she doesn’t. She’s a goddess.  _

_ Shit. I’m sweating like crazy. My hands are sweating so much. I hope it doesn’t gross her out.  _

_ Please don’t stare at her so stupidly.  _

_ But it’s Tess. She’s so stareable. _

_ Don’t smile at her stupidly either. And don’t blurt out ‘I love you.’ _

Scott swore he felt the champagne bubbles inside his veins. At least, that’s how much anticipation kicked into his system within those short seconds that felt like ages. He tried to desperately stifle his inner infatuated little boy monologue. 

Tessa was gazing at him, and she didn’t seem to be weirded out. Thank God mind-reading wasn’t one of her abilities. 

“Yeah?” He finally managed to encourage her to speak.

“Thank you so much, Scott.” She laced her fingers in between his. He resisted the urge to tug her towards him, envelop her in his arms, and press his lips to hers.

“I should thank you...” he breathed back, the nervousness taking hold of him all over again.

Tessa shook her head, smiling as sincerely as before. “No, let me say it. I’m just so grateful that I’ve done this with  _ you.  _ You were just amazing for me all these years, all this time. You’re such a wonderful man, Scott. I wanted to make sure you know it.”

_ Oh. That’s what she meant by ‘something.’ Well, that’s something, all right. _

“You’re too generous,” he teased her gently, with another affectionate squeeze of the hand. “I gotta give some credit to Marie and to Patch, since -”

She put a finger to his lips, and he silenced immediately.

_ Whatever you do, don’t kiss her finger. Unless you want her to think you’re a drunk weirdo. _

“Marie and Patch were awesome to us, too, but I didn’t dance with them. I did it with  _ you _ , Scott. You. That’s all that matters to me. You were with me, and I…”

_ Was it his drunk and infatuated imagination or did her eyes get even greener? _

“I’m just so happy you are in my life,” she finished. Silence hung in the air once more. It seemed neither wanted to dispel this...this  _ mood  _ that suddenly settled in.

_ Did the distance between them lessen, or was it his feverish wishful thinking? _

The loud notes of a  _ Hall and Oates  _ ringtone made Tessa startle away from him. The mood, whatever it was, evaporated. She looked at the screen half-heartedly.

“Hey, Kait! No, I’m in Scott’s room right now. What do you mean, ‘you go, girl’?!” 

Scott saw two patches of red creep up on Tessa’s cheeks. “Okay, I’m gonna pretend I heard nothing, and you said nothing. No. Nope.  _ No! NO, Kaitlyn! No _ , I said I’m fine.  _ Yes _ , I’m sure. But you guys have fun. What the hell, Kaitlyn! Stop it!” Tessa’s voice wavered between a frustrated tone and a calmer one. “God, you suck sometimes, you know? Yeah, whatever, love you too.”

She ended the call with a slightly pointed look of relief. 

“What did Kaitlyn say?” Scott asked, smiling at her still-pink cheeks.

“She wanted to know if I wanted to go out with them.”  _ What an endearing eye roll _ , he thought involuntarily. “Started bothering me with twenty questions as soon as I told her I’m in your room. Can’t I come here...you know...as your friend?”

She glanced quickly at him, all of a sudden - as if worried about saying something inappropriate.

He felt the breath stop in his throat. There it was. The word he was slowly but surely starting to resent. Better not tell Tess that, though, he reasoned with himself. As much as they were friends, even close ones, it sounded as if Tessa wasn’t necessarily eager to be more.

“Of course you can. Because you are my friend.” Thank goodness he made his voice kind and not cold, even as he cringed inwardly. It was the truth, but it was not the whole truth.

“I, uh…” Tessa blinked, shifted away, and then she was standing up. “I have to - no, I have to go - to go take a shower.”

Before Scott could collect himself, she had fled, and he remained sitting on his bed, staring at the open room door.

 

The moment she turned off the water, Tessa wanted to slam her head into the tile wall of the shower. It would serve her right for running from Scott in the stupidest way imaginable, she thought, full of helpless anger.

She hoped it would go something like this: she’d lower her voice to a purr and tell him about the shower, getting his interest, which would then cause him to think about her naked, causing him to make a move, which would cause her to answer that move, and...well, the moves would then come to a logical conclusion. Shower optional.

_ There. Would have been a perfect plan. Perfectly stupid, immature, quite simply awkward plan.  _

_ You don’t tell your partner of two decades about your feelings via a tumble in bed, Tessa Virtue,  _ she lectured herself sharply.

Kaitlyn and her meddling, too! It took one syllable of a confirmation that Tessa and Scott were alone in a room, and the damned girl turned on wingwoman mode. Tessa knew full well why she was annoyed at this. Kaitlyn had no idea how accurately she was able to guess the situation. The problem, though, escalated a number of times, because Tessa was still so painfully insecure in questioning whether Scott might reciprocate what she felt for him.

_ You don’t even know if he would really want to have anything resembling sex with you, never mind if he returned your pining. _

But how, how,  _ how  _ can a man pretend like this? Carmen sprang to her mind, then - the vibrant passion of that entire program. She had channeled her simmering desire for him into the choreography, and she was damned if she said Scott only put on a show. Even now, she shivered slightly, remembering all the places his hands touched, and how his eyes smoldered at her. How she did her best to mirror the feeling to him.

She could play a seductress on ice, and, at best, in her mind. Why couldn’t she, the  _ real _ Tessa, make any moves on the  _ real _ Scott?

Not for a routine. Not as a game, even a sexy one. Just a reality: she and Scott, together. Where was the ‘square one’ from which to begin this challenge she set before herself?

At a loss of what to do, she sat on her own bed. Her phone let out a  _ ping  _ of a notification.

_ “Hey, kiddo. Everything ok?” _

Right. Try explaining why she bolted on him like that. She racked her brain for a moment, trying to find the least strange-sounding excuse.

She settled on “ _I had a headache. Sorry about that_ ,” and tacked on an emoji, to dilute any awkwardness. Not strange, but pretty lame nevertheless.

Almost immediately came: “ _ No worries, T. Hope you’re feeling better. Can I do anything for you?” _

Heart emoji.

Her heart thudded. She was way too old to get worked up over a goddamn heart emoji, but this was  _ Scott.  _ He didn’t just throw them around lightly, the way she did. Great, she was analyzing the meaning behind Scott’s texts, like a teenage girl with a first boyfriend. No wonder her attempts at seduction would tank, she thought grimly.

She was Tessa Virtue, a strong, mature,  _ not stupid  _ woman. Supposedly. But what would she do now? 

Tessa realized that she just simply wanted to  _ be  _ with Scott. Never mind for the rest of her life (ideally), but even right now, in his room, to be near him, looking at him, talking to him, hearing him laugh and gazing into his warm hazel eyes…

As well as anything else they might get around to doing.

Before she second-guessed herself crazy, she found her fingers typing “ _ Can I come back?” _

The longest moment passed when she waited for his answer.

_ “Always.” _

Smile. 

Heart. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, I'm getting back into it here. This chapter was fun to write, to be honest <3 in it, among other things, is the explanation why Tessa called Scott's eyes 'brown' that one time :p

So in his room, Scott opened her the door and -

-no, nothing of  _ that kind.  _ Neither made moves of any sort, though there was a palpable sense of the unsaid, of the undone. If so, neither addressed it. They stayed in, and ordered room service and talked, talked, talked, and through it all, Scott almost forgot that she didn’t love him like he wished she would.

_ Tess is here. She wants to spend time with me. That’s all that matters. _

_ But she wants it as friends, nothing else. _

_ Does she? _

He saw that Tessa began to yawn, trying and adorably failing to be discreet about it. Before he could stop himself, he reached out to gently trace his thumb against her cheekbone. She leaned in, eyes shut. Opened them and leaned away almost instantly, as if hesitating.

“Do you want to go?” he questioned carefully. 

For a moment, she looked like a diver that braced herself before plunging into icy water. 

“Can I sleep with you?”

He could feel himself paling, then blushing. He’d never before complained of any hearing problems, but now he was sure he either misheard her (thanks to his fantasies), or she said the wrong thing by mistake. His heart was beating so furiously that he felt light-headed. She didn’t just say  _ that,  _ did she? Or was he so far gone for her that his painful pining messed with his sanity, once and for all?

Tessa, too, was bright red in the face, but didn’t look away. “Sorry, that sounded stupid. I meant here, in this room. With you. I know this might sound weird, but...you know, it calms me down when we sleep...when we sleep in the same bed,” she continued, stumbling over the words breathlessly.

He only nodded.  _ Of course I know. There have been so many beds through the years. For every reason but one. _

“And I just...I don’t know, I’m happy but so, so tired. And stressed, but it’s a good stress, not that I’m complaining, and I just want to share it with you, because you were always the best at de-stressing me, as strange as that may sound; but -”

He smiled, understanding at last what she was trying to get at, and reached to take her hand. “Relax, T. Of course you can sleep over, if you want to.”

Her eyes widened. She looked hit over the head with her previous rambling.

“What the hell am I even talking about…” she whispered. “Scott, I swear, I’m not stupid. This is just…” And then, so quietly he almost thought she imagined it, “I like being in bed with you.”

Scott smiled at her playfully. If that was the direction in which they’d talk now, he was more than happy to follow along. Cautiously. This subject (a tiny bit awkward, but still) widened the tiny patch of hope that she was saying these things because she wanted more than friendship. Scott would jump into any chance to nourish that thought in her. 

“That’s because I cuddle like I get paid for it, eh?” he asked, enjoying how the green of her eyes shone with warmth. 

“It’s relaxing.” Tessa returned his smile, but directed it at their touching hands. “And...nice. Really nice.”

_ Nice. I’m not ungrateful or disrespectful or selfish. I’ll take ‘nice.’ Good thing she doesn’t suspect that sleeping with her has a slightly less nice definition in my mind. _

But Tessa yawned again, and he gestured to the pillows. “Wanna get more comfy?”

“More than anything,” she agreed, scooting over to where he was settling himself on his side. Then Tessa surprised him yet again by curling up next to him, her head reclining on her arm. It wasn’t the action itself that was newfound, though. After all, it wasn’t their first time being in the same bed. But  _ this,  _ this was so very new and unfamiliarly exciting, now that Scott had decided for sure about the nature of his feelings for Tessa. She was maybe about an inch or so away from him, and he felt his eyes being pulled into the depths of her green ones. The mood that was interrupted with Kaitlyn’s phone call and Tessa’s flustered exit to the shower was again descending on the simple hotel bed and the two people who were intricately tiptoeing around each other’s hearts, in the silliest way.

_ He’s right there. My Scott, my best friend and the man of my dreams is in bed with me. And I want to kiss him. More than I’ve ever wanted to kiss in my life. But I want more than kissing. I want  _ him. 

_ Tessa. My world right now is Tessa, and these mesmerizing eyes of hers, and these lips that are just begging to be kissed, and I’ll be either the luckiest or the stupidest man ever to try something right now. But I want more than kissing. I want  _ her. 

The subconscious is a marvelous trickster, though, and it finally prompted him (or was it her?) into action.

His palm cradled the side of her face.

She moved a tiny bit even closer to him.

Now they were almost sharing the same breath, and the inhales and exhales grew shallower with suspense from both. 

“Your eyes are beautiful. Gorgeous green,” he murmured, and that in itself was a miniature declaration of love.

“And yours are...I don’t know. They just are - no less beautiful. Warm and kind and completely you,” a small breath of a response from her.

Quite simply, Scott decided to go for it. Betting all his money on sheer luck. The moment would never be ‘perfect,’ people always said, so why shouldn’t that moment be now? It might as well go as he was wishing.

“Do you want...I mean...is it okay...if I kiss you?” He seemed to forget how to breathe, waiting for her reaction. 

_ No one else, nothing else in the world. A bed. A man. A woman. _

She made a sharp little intake of breath. “Yes.” 

The word melted on the warmth from his mouth. A millimeter, and the two pairs of lips touched.

Scott couldn’t help but gather her into his arms, desperate to feel every movement she made, while he made sure to kiss her as gently, as softly as she deserved to be kissed, gradually pouring all his repressed emotion into it. 

_ Let this not be a dream. Let it be real. I’ll die if I wake up and it disappears. Stay with me, Tess. _

But Tessa, his real and  _ not _ make-believe Tessa, she was wrapping her arms and even her legs around him, and she was answering his kisses, of her own desire. He had never tasted anything as sweet as her lips. Strawberry mixed with hints of champagne and enhanced by just her own unique and delicious flavor. Her perfect, perfect lips that he wanted to kiss for as long as he breathed and walked in life. He knew exactly when to ask her to deepen the kiss, and she knew exactly when to grant it to him, and respond with her own play of lips against lips. Just like their ice dancing - balance and teamwork.

What was that, suddenly making them move apart, both breathless? Oh, they still actually needed oxygen.  _ How inconvenient,  _ both thought at the same time.

The moment, though, needed some serious things to be discussed verbally. If they could stand to be  _ talking  _ for long. 

Tessa, more beautiful still with tousled hair and flushed cheeks, spoke first. “So. You kissed me.” Her voice sounded more high-pitched than usually, even though the tone was hushed. But, thank God, Scott remarked that she didn’t show any signs of regret at the kiss.

“I did,” he confirmed, his fingers combing through the silky tresses of her hair. He was consumed by her presence completely - all five of his senses were full of her. Her scent, her warm skin, her lips, the sigh that she let out as they kissed. Nothing and no one could have torn him away from her. 

“What now?” Her palms were roaming all over his back, and the feeling made him shiver. 

“What do you want?” he prompted her. Gave her a soft peck on the lips again.

Tessa smiled, brightly and somehow deviously. “We could keep kissing. Or we could…” Here, she sidled up to him tighter and slipped her hands under his t-shirt. 

Scott’s heart skipped, and he had to catch his breath. “Only if you are sure,” he said cautiously. But Tessa smiled at him, brightly and for a moment, her face looked like a sunbeam. She leaned back into him to kiss him...well, almost senseless, he thought dizzily. He embraced her again, deepening the kiss, and relished the soft heat of her body through her pajamas.

Now, Tessa pulled away, but only the tiniest amount, brushing the tip of her nose against his. “I think you know how sure I am.” 

In a beat of hesitation, she gave a rueful thought to her choice of pajamas: they were a simple cotton set. In her haste to go back to Scott, she didn’t give much effort to making her clothes attractive instead of comfortable. 

Scott, in a reliably understanding way, made sure to tell her - well, more like  _ show  _ her - that he didn’t care. That he loved her in any clothes she wore. Who would he be to judge, clad in his sweatpants himself? No, he nuzzled his face affectionately into the sliver of skin available for now, the v-neck with such a conveniently undone top button. 

More kissing followed, deep and slow and for what felt like hours compressed into delicious minutes. Those unsaid comments about clothes only quickened their removal.

It was a game of anticipation, of discovery, of enjoyment. 

The pajama top, turned inside out, flew away. The shorts fell somewhere onto the floor, or even under the bed - not that anyone handling them cared. 

The sweatpants slid off strong legs and gave them the freedom to wrap around equally strong but graceful ones.

Hair waterfalled around a face; tickled the skin of the face across. 

Eyes found adoring eyes. Lips closed on parted lips. 

An eager body gave itself over to the rhythm and dance suggested by the other body, crafted by hands, choreographed by hips, accompanied by a whole choir of gasps and whispers and giggles.

When the game ended, they were winners of a shared prize that consisted of the thing that both told themselves they would never have.

“I love you.” 

Tessa told him first, as her body quieted down and her pink flush (a color equal in its beauty to her eyes) melted off into her normal pale ivory color. The tone of the words made Scott hold her more tightly. 

“I love you too, Tutu.” In that little silly childhood nickname, he made sure to put all his nurtured feelings for her - from his puppy crush at 9, to his new and so deep and strong love. 

She raised her head slightly to peer into his eyes. To his surprise, he saw trepidation in her expression. 

“But I love you more than a friend.” 

How fast her heart beat against his chest, like the wings of a small frightened bird. He smiled, though, eager to dispel her worry.

“I love you more than a friend, myself.” 

The anxiety all but left her gaze. “And you’re not just saying that because of what we just -”

He dipped swiftly and kissed the end of the sentence away. He knew he would have better died right there than made her continue to believe that his love for her began and ended here, in bed. It was so much wider and truer and more encompassing than a mattress, even a king-sized one. 

After the kiss was over, and they resumed their contented snuggling position, he realized that he had said the words out loud, and blushed immediately. Especially because it came to him that he blurted out about their love being bigger than a king-sized mattress.

Tessa burst out giggling, a pure melody, sweeter than any music to which they ever danced. “You are such a  _ sap _ ,” she said, making the word sound like the most sincere endearment. 

“Only for you,” he smiled back, nestling her head onto his shoulder. 

“So, you like this mattress that much, huh?”

He grinned. “I like what’s  _ on  _ the mattress even more.” He gave her hip a squeeze. 

She tossed her head back, sending dark hair flying as she laughed again. “Now you’re more of a perv.” But he was laughing along.

“Make up your mind, T - sap or perv?” he teased.

“Just Scott. My Scott,” she sighed. Another sated yawn, and she was already nodding off. 

“And I love you so much,” he told her quietly. 

“Love you too,” she mumbled, even in a half-sleep. 

That night, neither dreamed about the other, because they were finally and fully each other’s reality. 

 

A different side of reality presented itself the morning after.

It started very well, very wonderfully indeed. 

Scott blinked his eyes open, and the feeling of another body made him smile in drowsy happiness.  _ Tessa _ . He didn’t need to pinch himself (though he felt like it for a second) to make sure that he wasn’t  _ dreaming _ of holding her in the hotel bed, but actually  _ was.  _

“You awake?” he murmured, the moment she stirred in his arms. Tessa only made a nondescript but happy-sounding mumble. He squeezed her gently.

“We should grab some breakfast with the others and get ready,” he said. She suddenly wriggled out of his embrace with surprising energy for a definitely-not-morning-person. 

“About last night, though…” Hints of yesterday’s hesitation were apparent in her eyes again, and Scott tensed. 

_ She’s not about to say that she regretted it… _

Tessa, though, noticed his bit of involuntary panic. “Scotty,” she began, and he was relieved to see a loving smile on her face. “I love you, I want you to be sure of that first of all.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek to support the words.

He listened closely, sensing a  _ but.  _ “And yet I...don’t take it the wrong way, but I don’t think we should just...just come out as a couple so suddenly. Our life is hectic enough as it is right now.”

He couldn’t help but agree, as she continued to look at him intently. “I’m not saying we should ignore each other,” she hurried on, “let’s just be a bit...discreet. What do you think?”

He had to admit there was logic in that. He and she both needed some peace. God knew their sensual - if not to say  _ sexy _ \- Olympic programs fueled the public speculation that they were secretly dating. 

“We can do that, Tess,” he reassured her. “But also -” here he kissed her on the nose teasingly, “try being discreet in front of our whole gang when we exit the same room together now.”

She gasped, pretending to be scandalized. “Scott Moir, are you suggesting we do a walk of shame?” Hints of laughter made her eyes sparkle.

He circled his hands around her face, unable to look away from those green gems. “No,” he told her affectionately, inches away from her lips. “I’m suggesting we have a stride of pride.”

 

The promised stride of pride had them running right into Chiddy, leaving his adjacent room, some thirty minutes later.

Chiddy blinked, taking in them both, and they released each other’s hand. 

Squeaking a very high-pitched “Morning, Chiddy,” Tessa hurried down the hall, but was immediately ambushed by Kaitlyn and Andrew, who were closing the door to their rooms. Chiddy faced Scott with an indecently smug air. “Looks like me and the team were right after all. Victory is best celebrated in pairs.”

Scott scowled and walked right up to him. “ _ Not. A. Word. Patrick. Chan _ ,” he hissed emphatically. 

“Wasn’t gonna…” Chiddy held up his arms, mocking innocence, but his smile was just the opposite.

 

_ Had everyone but her and Scott seen what they denied for so long? _

Tessa, caught between a rock and a hard place in the form of Kaitlyn and Andrew (who had Chiddy’s support) could only squirm when they traded barely-there winking and snickering during breakfast. She anticipated full-on teasing from Kaitlyn, when her friend would catch her alone later. But their friends decided to cut them slack, and only continued the not-so-secret triumphant smiling among the three of them.

During a bout of semi-awkward quiet breakfast eating, strains of the radio could be heard in their nearest vicinity.

_ Last night you were in my room _

_ Now my bedsheets smell like you… _

Andrew and Kaitlyn looked as if they were barely keeping from nudging each other. Chiddy wagged his eyebrows at Scott, who was deliberately avoiding meeting his friend’s eye.

“They play that goddamn Sheeran guy everywhere now,” Tessa blurted out, in a nervous rush, before she could bite her tongue. Kaitlyn “mhmm”-ed to that, sounding shamelessly amused.

Then: 

“I don’t know. I like this song,” was the last thing Tessa expected to hear from  _ Scott.  _ Scott who agreed to act natural not an hour earlier. She reached to poke him in the knee, but he caught her hand and gave it an apologetic squeeze, seeing that his joking remark wasn’t so funny to her. 

Thankfully, the ordeal that breakfast turned into was over, and they all went separate ways. Nonetheless, Tessa could hear their three cheerleaders vehemently discussing what could only be Scott and her. 

“I swear, they held hands. I’m positive.”

“Come on, Kait. Not at the table! Freakin’ high schoolers,” Andrew’s voice was endeared. Well, if someone as level-headed as  _ Andrew  _ was moved by the changed energy between them, Tessa had to confess they really did suck at hiding their feelings.

“I’m telling you. He grabbed her hand under the table, and I’m really, really hoping it was her hand and not -”

“Tessa would never let him grab her anywhere else in public,” Chiddy put in his analytical two cents.

“Okay, but they held hands. They sat across from us and held hands. Someone owes me money, and I’m thinking it’s you, Mr. Poje,” Kaitlyn laughed, and Andrew groaned, pretending defeat. 

Wonderful. Apparently even their friends have had enough of their dancing around each other, and betted on them sliding off their triumph, and right into bed, on a wave of general happiness.

“Let them have their fun,” Scott murmured, fully aware of those three watching how he leaned in to her ear.

Only they all probably had little idea that the physical side of it was only a pleasant bonus. Tessa knew that what mattered most to her wasn’t so much their sync in bed (amazing though it had been). It was their perfectly tuned hearts.

 

“You were saying about acting natural…” Tessa sighed, not really with much regret that night. She watched Scott pull on his t-shirt to go to bed.

“Yeah. So much for that,” came the muffled reply, and there was his messy-haired head emerging through the t-shirt’s neck. He shrugged. “Big deal. I don’t care that they know. They’ll tease and joke for a while, and stop. It’s not like they want the worst for us. They seemed pretty happy, to be honest.” His smile warmed as he climbed into bed to draw her against his side.

“But we  _ are _ poor actors, Scott. Off the ice, I mean,” she clarified, seeing his raised eyebrows. “Come to think of it, it’s our great job of skating that’s been fueling the rumors, and now...if we couldn’t hide it from Chiddy and Kaitlyn and Andrew, we sure as hell won’t hide it from everyone else.”

He regarded her, more seriously now. “What would you suggest, then?” 

She sighed, leaning her head onto his shoulder. “Just hope we don’t make fools out of ourselves in any interviews.”

 

A few days later, they found themselves interviewed.

Acting natural was, again, discussed in detail beforehand. 

“Scott, Tessa, without looking - what color are your partner’s eyes?”

It was really as if anyone who came up with these questions enjoyed torturing them by dead-end questions that forced them to slip up.

Both though grimly that the script person will get a raise. Courtesy of their lovesick selves.

“Brown. Brown.” A very quick answer, concise in its effort to control any starry-eyed gushing.

“Green. Gorgeous green.” The word ‘gorgeous’ stressed on the first syllable and pronounced with a tremor that spoke of immense adoration for the mentioned eyes.

 

“Seriously, T?  _ Brown _ ?” Eyeroll.

“You’re a fine one to talk - _‘gorgeous_ _green’_!” Tessa shot back, mimicking his infatuated voice.

Both dropped down to a seat on the bed. No hug this time, but…

Amused mischief in Scott’s expression as he looked sideways at her. “Why did you call my eyes brown?”

She blushed, very slightly, and spontaneously poured out an entire confession. “Because I know logically that they are hazel, but then sometimes you just do ‘that thing’ with your eyebrows - like right now, exactly - and they get so warm and so deep, but not really sparkling, like when they’re hazel, just different in a beautiful way; and they remind me of the tiniest little cups of hot chocolate, so if I think about it, your eyes are so much like  _ home _ to me, warmth and that fuzzy feeling that only things like drinking hot chocolate and looking at you makes me feel…”

He listened still when she finished, complete adoration changing his expression, and she all but hid her face, feeling her cheeks burn with the surprising honesty of what she said.

“Wow.” His voice was soft, and he took her hand. “I’m...that’s something, T. I’m not sure my basic eyes even deserve all this praise.” But his joke was gentle, and she earned a kiss for it.

“Are  _ my _ eyes really that gorgeous?” was her turn to debrief.

Now he gathered her to him and just held her, closing his eyes and seeing hers instead of nothing. “They are. Gorgeous, incredible, magical green. The most beautiful color to exist anywhere on earth.”

Her quiet laugh was muffled by his shoulder. “You’ve outdone me on the poetry,  _ again. _ ”

“Then are we still back in the game?”

She stopped her idle stroking of his hair. “Game?”

“Oh, you know. It’s called ‘To what extent can we make idiots out of ourselves while trying to act natural.’ And by ‘idiots,’ I mean me. You just have no choice but to play along with my buffoonery.”

“Not a bad thing to play along with, Brown Eyes.”

Why thank you, Gorgeous Green.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Wohoo! The end!  
> 2) So this is my extremely, extremely (x100) AU version of what happened shortly after PyeongChang. Because I wanted yet more fluff here :p  
> 3) There are some flashbacks, which are in italics, and hopefully not confusing  
> 4) Enjoy!

If anyone had asked Scott what his absolute least favorite sentence in any language was, the answer would be ‘ _Non, nous ne sommes pas en couple._ ’

_No, we are not a couple._

Meaning he and Tessa aren’t.

He _hated_ the sentence and the circumstances under which it was said. He couldn’t bring himself to be truly angry at the _person_ who said it, however, and only because he loved that person dearly.

Their game of being together away from the public eye acquired a whole new set of implicit rules after PyeongChang was over.

 

Of course, before the affair with the public denial in French, there was the tweet reading. Scott never knew what the big obsession was with social media. He’d gotten a Twitter (at Danny’s urging), and an Instagram (goaded by Tessa), but he was never the one to be obsessed with posting.

Canada’s best PR people suggested they read some of the most ‘outrageous’ fan tweets about Canada’s Sweethearts.

The sweethearts (and this term was by then taken literally - but only privately by both of them) agreed to see what crazy stuff their devotees came up with.

 

 _“Find someone who looks like you the way Virtue and Moir look at each other,”_ Scott read aloud, immediately glancing over at Tessa. She offered him a shy but bright smile, and quickly averted her eyes, like an adolescent girl who was caught flirting with the boy she liked.

“Oh, she avoided my eye contact there,” he joked to that. Yet, he knew it was just as well, because he knew if she held his gaze for a second longer, he’d be caught in the emerald spell and make an awkward pause. Lord knows he already did that once in an interview, and it made for an uncomfortable moment. And Scott wouldn’t ever want to make Tessa uncomfortable, especially when they had gotten together as a couple once and for all.

Tessa’s turn. “ _Where should we put the Virtue and Moir statues: in their hometowns, or in all the hometowns?_ Aww, that’s so sweet!” Her smile brightened again, and she was so beautiful in that moment, that Scott just barely shook himself to mumble in agreement - again, deflecting awkward staring at her. _She deserves a statue like no other woman,_ he thought. His Tess deserved a statue fit for the pedestal on which he - rightfully - put her. A monument to her grace. Her talent. Her brilliance. Her kindness and warmth and humor. Last but not least, her unparalleled beauty, on ice, on land among the people, and even for his, Scott’s, eyes only, when she went to bed with him, trusting her naked body to his hands and lips with no less certainty than she trusted him to skate with her.

And he snapped out of it, because then he had: “ _Honestly, at the end of the last routine, Scott should go down on one knee and propose._ ”

Oh. Well, he and Tessa knew for a fact that the fans suspected there was more between them than simple friendship and a sports partnership. Nor did it escape his eyes, when he read _that_ out loud, that Tessa’s cheeks flooded with pink, which she valiantly pretended wasn’t happening.

_It’s okay, T._

_It’s just for laughs, this tweeting thing._

_No matter that now I’m about 99% sure that I want to propose to her._

_And she’ll accept, won’t she? We’ve been dating for like...two weeks officially, or as much as we define it. But the twenty years have been the best relationship ever for us, no matter what. I want to spend the rest of my life with her. Is it too selfish to guess that she wants the same?_

The video resumed. “ _Scott and Tessa’s fake love is ruining real love for the rest of us_ ,” Tessa read. Scott smiled, mentally adding _Damn right it is. I myself can still hardly believe that T chose me. Not only now, but even back then, to skate with, when we were little._

Tessa’s voice, though, sounded earnest, when she commented, “But it’s not fake, we do really care about each other.”

Those words were like a new ingredient in an otherwise old recipe. In spite of trying to be nonchalant, Scott sat up straighter and did finally stare at her, if only for a second.

No, of course they weren’t fake. Their love was the purest and truest emotion, they knew it inside and out. But they had agreed to stay a bit subdued before, and here Tessa was dropping such a significant line. Even her inadvertent word choice - ‘care about each other’ - was meaningful. Not ‘like’ - too simple and not enough. Not so much ‘love.’ Romantic love in the honeymoon stage was quite often a selfish indulging of yourself with another person. But ‘care about’ was completely different, and it fit their definition of love almost perfectly. They cared to respect each other’s well-being, learned to compromise and balance each other’s cons with complementing pros. They both thought about doing and being the best for each other, not changing the other person for their benefit. It was learned behavior, through trial and error, marriage counselors (how ironic that was!) and just basic maturity over time. An overtone of passion and romance set over that committed friendship, but their foundation was by now so solid, that possibly nothing would be powerful enough to break it.

He and Tessa both giggled and squirmed a bit with embarrassment from the next tweet that was about their skating melting the ice and making everyone pregnant. Right, so the fans weren’t stupid and could see their chemistry on ice for what it was. Next, Scott refrained from reading a tweet or two that included straight-up _very_ explicit imagery.

Finally, for a reason that could only be recklessness, he read:

“ _Yeah, sex is great and all, but have you watched Virtue and Moir skate?_ ”

From Tessa’s high giggle he heard very well that she was as mortified as he was. Through a furious blush, he managed to quip, “Yeah, what a way…” when Tessa, laughing nervously, said, “What a way to end…”

Still, all those giggles and embarrassed comments were _fun,_ not painful, even though it had been awkward to read such frank evaluation of their chemistry and the translation thereof onto their personal lives.

 

Suddenly, _Tout le monde en parle_ happened, and everything was crazy.

Again, ‘acting natural’ was rehearsed, like before all the other public appearances.

Who knew it would pretty much backfire....

 

Tessa looked was beautiful and _badass_ , and it was, no offense to her, the worst combination in helping Scott maintain his cool, he thought ironically. That vivid-green jacket she wore with her black pants was a color that seemed to have been created specifically for brunettes with emerald-colored eyes. Or, _his_ brunette with emerald-colored eyes, who was taunting him with her beauty, as he feverishly tried to invent excuses or plans in his mind  to avoid the entire show and spend the night instead showing her just how much he liked that jacket on or off her. He’d nearly choked on the water that he’d been sipping when Tessa walked out of her room dressed to the nines.

_Easy, Moir. Down, boy. You got this. An hour with the silly French show guy, and you two can do whatever you want; plus, Tessa will only be too happy._

“Scott? Hellooooo? Scott? I’m asking, is this too much green?” Snapping of fingers.

Scott shook to attention, aware too late that he must have been ogling her like some magazine spread. Tessa was staring at him, all impatient frowning.

_How I love her. Sinfully green jacket or not. Only she can pull off this much green. Gorgeous green._

“Just the right amount. You look fantastic,” he said sincerely, and her expression softened, as she smiled. She reached towards him for a quick hug and a peck on the cheek, leaving a mild waft of delicious perfume around him.

 _God, I want so much more even than that sweet kiss. Why can’t we skip this thing again?_ He stopped her from stepping away, gently but persistently.

“Tess? Do we _have_ to go there?” He did his best pout, trying to sway her, but she looked surprised.

“Why don’t you want to go?”

He raised his eyebrows with a sly smile and smoothed the sides of her jacket. “You’re too beautiful. Every single guy there will lose his shit and fall in love with you. And I don’t want that,” he reasoned, ending with a kiss to her neck, as if to convince her further.

She hummed, a sound almost like a small laugh. “Not a good reason, sorry. We have to go practice our _fran_ _çais,_ ” giving him a wink when she pulled back. “ _I might have a surprise for you after,_ ” one final ghost of a whisper against his ear. Sweet Tessa Virtue was quite a shameless manipulator!

And God, for this woman, he would go anywhere.

 

The strangely jovial host on _Tout le monde_ did make them and the whole audience laugh.

Right off the bat, he had everyone snickering about the goddamn ‘cunniliftus.’ Somehow it sounded worse in the unctuous French accent: ‘ _kyoo-nee-leef-toos.’_ It didn’t even sound sexy as much as lecherous and dirty and _wrong_. Reason number gazillion why no one bought their stories about platonic partnership anymore. With lifts like this, anyone who was friends with logic was able to make the correct conclusions every time they persuaded that they were only friends.

Looking like a lottery winner, the host suddenly changed tactics: “Well, now I have to ask you something we’ve all been wondering for a while.”

In spite of himself, Scott steeled his spine. Here it comes…

He sensed a nervous shiver even from the always relaxed and calm-demeanored Tessa.

“ _Est-ce que c’est vous qui aiguisez vos patins?”_

Laughter. Cheers. Applause.

Did they sharpen their own skates. Eh. That was underwhelming, but at least they didn’t have to openly answer -

Fidgeting to Scott’s side. “I had a prepared answer, which was…” Tessa gestured vaguely, clearly trying to remember the words. “ _Non, non...non...nous ne sommes pas en couple._ ”

Scott’s ears felt stuffed up with cotton, so that he didn’t hear more of the laughter from the audience. His smile slowly slipped off his face.

Tessa has been rehearsing... _that_?

Of course, he understood, given their agreement to be private about their new relationship, but it stung him. Slightly, but he sensed it.

Onwards they moved, but the downright _false_ words were still thundering in his ears. He forced himself to smile widely; he was able to admit how brilliant Tessa was when his turn to answer came. Even if her ‘rehearsed answer’ wasn’t so brilliant-sounding at the moment.

He wanted them to be out in the open, freely dating like any other couple. Meddling fans and journalists be damned.

Didn’t Tessa want the same?

Was she...uncomfortable with the idea of dating him without hiding it?

He hated this show. He hated that she had to lie. His mood for the night had hopelessly turned for the worse.

 

“Scott. _Tell_ me what’s been bothering you. And don’t lie to me. Was it something on the show? You haven’t been yourself since we left the place.”

Tessa’s hand was gentle as it rubbed his shoulder, but it did little to help him explain it all to her. He only hoped that they won’t have to return soon to ‘the place,’ as she called it. Or ever again. He will swear off any and all talk shows.

He took a deep breath, at last, and turned to face her. “So you were really preparing to say that we’re not a couple? And in _French_ ,” he asked in frustration, as if it was the language of the sentence that hurt the most.

Tessa looked exasperated. She dropped her hand from his shoulder to pull it into her lap. “You know perfectly well why I said that.”

Scott, too, stared ahead, suddenly uncomfortable with looking at her. “No one is stupid enough to believe it, and we’re still stupider for trying to sell it.” Beside him, he felt Tessa tense up a bit.

“I’m not sure what you want me to say. Why are you upset, anyway? We’ve talked about this, right? We decided to remain private for now,” she pointed out, stubbornly crossing her arms over her chest.

“We did,” he said. He couldn’t help but frown at his own words. “But, T…” he took her hand again, and snuck a glance at her. “Why are you afraid of everyone knowing?”

Tessa closed her eyes for a moment, and Scott grew worried that his question came out accusatory rather than concerned. A few seconds of silence, as if she was hesitating to reveal her reasons to him.

“No one will leave us alone anymore. We won’t be simply two famous ice dancers - just a couple who happen to skate. I don’t want that, no offense to us. I don’t want us to be swallowed by all the stress of the journalists sneaking around, trying to get a picture of us kissing or something.” She had dropped her gaze to her lap, voice growing quieter as she spoke.

Scott shook his head emphatically, moving to hug her by instinct, because he sensed that she wanted comfort from that negative thought. She leaned into him and he was glad that she wrapped her arms around him to hug him back.

“I won’t let it happen, Tess. _We_ won’t let it happen. We’re bigger and better than their little dirty guessing games. We still are and always be Virtue and Moir, and if that includes us being an openly together couple, then so be it. There aren’t podiums left that we still haven’t conquered. Of course,” he continued firmly, “I want you to know that we’re going at our own pace. We don’t owe anyone proof or disproof of our relationship. A little slipping here and there never hurt anyone, because we’re both human. So you and I will just do what we do best - skate together and love each other.”

He felt, from the way Tessa was still in his arms, that she was carefully listening. When she spoke finally, a smile was evident in her voice.

“All this winning the Olympics is making you say the most eloquent things.”

Scott grinned at that, and pulled back to wink at her. “Loving you is making me eloquent,” he said, leaning to brush a kiss to her smiling lips. The silence that settled after that was much more relaxed.

He remembered something abruptly, and it made him chuckle. “So what was the surprise you had for me for after this dumb show is over?”

Tessa smiled mysteriously. Her eyes glittered, and he suddenly understood why. Hardly suppressing a shiver of interest, Scott watched her intently.

“This jacket isn’t the only green thing I have on me tonight.”

_The minx._

“Oh, you mean the devilishly beautiful green eyes on your face?” he teased, stealing another kiss. And another. And a few more, until he was able to deepen them so that she ended up lying flat on the bed, and he hovered above her, just a few breaths away.

“You can look,” she whispered. “I won’t even be mad…”

The game of ‘what else are you wearing that’s green’ turned out to be much, _much_ more rewarding than cringing with embarrassment as the Quebecois audience laughed about _kyoo-nee-leef-toos._

That said, their signature move itself, was, after all, best practiced away from prying eyes, just like the other things that they did as part of one of their favorite nightly games.

 

*

She looked at him, all smiles and eagerness, her ears hidden by headphones. He glanced at the card in his hand.

“Huh. This is not us, okay?” He felt a sudden need to somehow reassure her, though she couldn’t hear him, that this weird, out-of-character sentence he was about to say would never apply to them in real life.

 _“We don’t stand a chance,_ ” he pronounced, slowly and carefully. She continued smiling, but clearly not getting it.

“We.” He gestured between them.

“We,” she repeated.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t…”

“Stand.” Her eyes narrowed.

“Uh...stand?”

“We don’t stand a chance.”

“Oh. We don’t stand a chance?”

“Yep. She’s good!” The sweetest giggle from her. _His love, his partner, one half of his soul._

He’d do everything to prove to her that they stood all the chances in the world.

“This one’s easy. This one’s true, actually. _Your hair_ ,” he pointed his finger emphatically, “ _smells like strawberries_.”

Now, she just burst out laughing, and the sound made his breath catch like it pretty much always did. “Yeah - it is what it is.”

_That’s how you smell to me. Not just like strawberries. It’s the smell of happiness. Of love. Of home. I’d live with my face permanently buried into your hair, if only I could._

She grinned. “I wish I knew, ‘cause your eyebrows are doing that thing.” He gave her his goofiest grin back.

“ _Your_.”

“Your…”

“ _Hair._ ”

“Hair…” She looked adorably confused, and he decided to help her with gestures as well as words. He mimed inhaling something and then picking things out of thin air.

Tessa tilted her head, thinking. “Smells...like…”

“ _Strawberries,_ ” he enunciated.

A look of misunderstanding.

“ _Straw-ber-ries.”_ He sighed in exaggerated defeat. Crossed his arms over his chest. “Strawberries.”

Peals of belly laughter, a sound the closest in beauty to her famous crying laugh. “Strawberries?” she tried.

“Yeah!” he enthused, high-fiving her and tossing the card up and away.

They switched. Now it was Scott goofing around and waving his arms wildly in tune to Journey from his headphones, just to make Tessa laugh.

Tessa’s lips moved.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, I have no idea.” Turned so he was facing her, instead of sitting sideways. Maybe that would help him track her lips better? Truth be told, all he could focus on was their luscious pink color, and not at all at trying to decipher what she was saying.

Her lips formed words again, but he was none the wiser yet. She gestured, imitating something falling from above, then rubbed her arms as if she were cold.

“Rainfall?”

Without warning, a flashback came to Scott’s mind.

 _They were in his car by her apartment, back from Sunday shopping. A horrible downpour caught them just as they wanted to get out. Laughing and jokingly daring each other to open the door and run, they passed that up for digging into their groceries and eating newly bought grapes straight from the bag, and laughing harder,until the rain subsided. That day was the first time that he truly sensed_ something _between them. A possibility of more than friendship._

He was pulled back into the present. “Snowfall?” he suggested, to Tessa’s amused shaking of the head that meant ‘no.’

And again his mind flashed back into the past...

_On a January weekend, they went sledding together. Tessa was flushed pink from the freezing air and childlike excitement. The tip of her nose was red, like a cranberry, and he couldn’t resist giving it a kiss (and it felt like a frozen cranberry under his lips) before wrapping his arms around her and pushing away from the ground, sending their big sled speeding downhill. They laughed while falling haphazardly into the snow as the sled turned over._

“Winter?” he guessed for the third time, and she nodded excitedly. “Is coming?” More nodding and giggling which he couldn’t hear.

The remaining cards were sillier and more nonsensical, about things like ‘Axel’ and ‘accidentally eating some crayons.’ Scott knew that now, he was immune to goofing off in front of the cameras. He was genuinely having fun, because he was with Tessa.

He wanted all the rainfalls and snowfalls and sunny days of the rest of his life to be spent near her. He also wanted to tell her so as soon as possible.

When they returned to Montreal, he carved out one day for himself out of their busy schedule. He had a grand plan, which was, in reality, simple, to accomplish. No one had to interfere with the preparations. Not even _her_. Yet, something told him she would be very much okay with the secrecy when all was said and done.

 

The morning of another Saturday at the end of February dawned bright white and cold, which was no surprise. Scott found himself waking at about five a.m., the suspense making him extremely jittery and restless. He stared at the ceiling  for a half an hour, missing Tessa’s usual presence in his arms (she had gone to spend the night over at her mom’s, and would return that evening). Still, it was somewhat helpful, even though it made him nervous, to go over the plan for the day, when she would come back over to his place.

It was a usual day, like countless other days of countless winters. And yet it wasn’t.

He was Scott Moir, still Scott, but now so greatly accomplished and decorated with even more trophies than he imagined having. He was successful, and so indescribably happy, but he knew, from the bottom of his heart, to whom he was indebted with every joy, with every good and beautiful thing and event he was given in life.

One person. One woman. The woman that seemed created for him by fate itself. Today, he will make sure that she knew how grateful and blessed he felt that she was a part of his existence in the world.

It was an ordinary day, but he would make the day extraordinary, for the extraordinary human being that she was. It wouldn’t be over-the-top, but only because he knew that her reserved and modest nature loved their little intimate times at home.

And wow, was she in for a treat that evening.

 

He let Tessa inside, and she immediately exclaimed, “Something smells delicious!”

To that, Scott only laughed and gathered her against him, busy with inhaling her own hair. “You mean my new cologne, right?”

She swatted him on the back playfully. “Sure. Didn’t know you had cologne that smells like steak and french fries.” Chuckling at that, he looped his arm around her waist and steered her into the kitchen. Tessa took a deep breath in delight, again, when she saw the spread on the table.

“Ooh, food. Lovely food,” she sighed in appreciation, sniffing at the air a third time with a drawn-out “ _hmm_.” Turned to him to stand on tiptoe and kiss him, simply but sincerely. “Thanks so much for all of this. You must have worked all day.” Her palm rubbed his back gently.

He was smiling back, not so willing to release her from his arms. “I would gladly stand in that kitchen twenty-four-seven, if it’s you I’m cooking for.”

“How you pamper me.” Her voice was full of affection, and then she gently removed herself from the hug. “Let’s go eat now.”

 

After dinner, they settled in on the couch. A possible stroll outside was vetoed, seeing the weather - and the better for Scott. He excused himself under the pretense of the bathroom, leaving Tessa basking in a post-signature-Scott-meal satisfaction. He snuck into his bedroom, and opened his drawer to finally take out the object that has been there for about four years.

_They had made peace after those terrible post-Sochi months. Scott had been immensely relieved and grateful that Tessa was generous and selfless enough to forgive his bar-hopping, drowning in alcohol and generally acting crazy. It was difficult and painful to do, but they persevered, because when did they not._

_That was the time when he began to see her in a completely different light than simply his skating partner._

_He saw her, suddenly, as the woman with whom he could fall in love._

_Not long after, he did. Without turning back._

_In the true fashion of a hopeless romantic, he made the impulse-purchase of his life: a ring from the nearest jewelry store. A simple but beautiful golden band, with a cluster of small emeralds and diamonds._

_He had ‘Just Us’ specially engraved on the inside._

_He wasn’t sure why he even bought it, spending half of his savings, given that at that time, he had no inkling whether Tessa felt anything like romantic love for him. But he wished, with all his soul, that she did, and that he then would give her this ring to wear; that he would promise to love her forever._

_So he waited. So, inside his drawer, did the ring._

_Patience, ironically, was one virtue with which he was very familiar._

 

Scott returned to the living room, to find Tessa scrolling through his phone, earbuds tucked in her ears. She looked up and smiled seeing him back.

Bingo. He didn’t even have to ask that she listen to the music, simplifying the task he was about to do.

“Do you have anything _besides_ country music on this thing?” she snickered good-naturedly, shaking her head. She took one earbud while speaking. Scott was, predictably, nervous again. This wasn’t really something he could practice, like a routine for a performance. His success here really just depended on luck.

“So,” he began, trying to sound casually light, “wanna do another whisper challenge, T?”

Tessa’s eyes sparkled. “Su-ure,” she said, but with obvious confusion at the random suggestion. She put the earbuds back on and paused to choose a song. “Ooh, Come What May!” she rejoiced, selecting it.

_The luck was on his side. Here went nothing._

He mouthed her his words, and she took it in, trying to decipher it even while quietly singing along. Her green eyes shone at his.

“I don’t get it,” she laughed, shaking her head with endearment. And Scott took a deep breath, one final time. Here was the moment to help her with gestures.

“ _Will.”_ He spread out his hands, as if inviting her to consider his question.

 _“You.”_ Pointed at her, and she imitated him jokingly.

“ _Marry.”_ He raised his hand and acted putting a ring onto his finger. Tessa, who was nodding her head in tune with the music, gazed at him intensely; hardly did she open her mouth, that he slipped off the couch where he sat next to her, and onto one knee.

The earbuds slid to her lap when her hands flew to cover her mouth. She made a soft choked-up sound, like a mini cry-laugh that was her trademark.

 _“Me?”_ he pronounced the final word, reaching into his pocket for the ring and showing it to her with a smile.

Tessa’s eyes glowed with the gathering tears. For a moment, she kept staring at him, in silence, while faint beats of music sounded from the forgotten iPhone. Then, she lunged at him, throwing his arms around his neck.

“Scott, Scott, _Scott…_ oh, Scott...” he heard her whispering, in a trembling voice that belied tears of happiness. And he squeezed her back, because some of the suspense for him lessened, even though she hadn’t actually responded clearly.

She pulled back, and her eyes still showed some disbelief, happiness, and love, so much true and unadorned love, that Scott felt as if he were smiling at her with his whole being, not only his lips. But he owed her a short explanation.

“Tess. I know this is _crazy_ early, and probably not even the right moment, but at the same time, I wanted more than anything to make sure you know I love you.” She nodded, grinning at him through her teary look. “I wanted to say...well, basically, that I’m one hundred percent committed to you, and I hope more than anything that you’re committed to me as well. I mean, I hope it doesn’t sound selfish, because I still can hardly believe I ended up in love with someone as incredible as you,” he told her, beginning to choke up a little as well, “but I love you. In this life, and any other ones that may follow.”

Tessa, her beautiful eyes still alight, was listening, holding onto him like she was afraid to fall. But then again, he would catch her no matter what. “But how did you...when did you get the ring?” she blurted out, stunned. He laughed, a bit sheepishly, but proudly too.

“I...you know, this is even weirder, but I’ve had this for years.”

Her eyes were huge with shock. “ _Years?_ ”

“I bought this roughly the day we…” He breathed deeply, as if to steady himself. “The day we reconciled after Sochi. I didn’t know, I couldn’t know if you loved me like a friend or like someone more. But I loved you, and I couldn’t resist buying this ring. I just _sensed_ that you’re the one for me. That, even after everything we went through together, you chose to skate with me. I was so happy, but at the same time, I was, well, _scared_ deep down that you will never return my feelings. I didn’t know how to tell you about mine.” _After I behaved like a total dumbass, and after you forgave all I did,_ he supplied in his thoughts. He knew that Tessa realized it on her own, and he’d hate to spoil his goddamn proposal with those particular memories.

She still was taking it all in. “Oh Scott...you sweet, brave, romantic man. You know, I felt almost sure that I was in love with you too. It was such a hard time for us, but we managed. I managed, because you were with me, and I can’t…” She shook her head again, smiling, stroking his cheeks with both hands. “You were always there with me. You are my best friend and the most wonderful man I’ve ever met. You are my _person_. And I’m so glad I know we love each other.”

Scott pulled her in against him, breathing out a sigh into her hair. “Can’t be otherwise, T. I love you so much.” And he glanced at her, with a tiny wink. “Though, you kind of haven’t said if you wanted to marry me yet.”

She looked serious for a moment, before leaning to kiss him sweetly. “Yes. Yes, of course I do.”

Joy bubbled all over him. He kissed her back in a swift, jubilant move, then suddenly jumped up and tore the living room window open. “She said yes, everyone!” he shouted into it in delight. “My Tess said yes!”

Tessa ran to him, laughing, and gave him a few playful swats on the back. “And this is the private Scott Moir who said that focusing on the romance of our skating cheapened our entire relationship.”

He turned to her, his arm warm around her. “Sorry. Got crazy with happiness for a moment there. But wait…” he lost his amused look and peered at her. “Do you...do you like the ring? Is it too much?”

Tessa held her hand out, admiring the shine of the little circle on her finger. “It’s beautiful.”

He watched her, eyes turning that special hue of soft adoration that was reserved only for her. “Did you see what was on the inside?”

Her eyes widened, and she quickly took it off. “ _Oh,”_ she breathed, looking from the tiny script to him. Then buried her face into his chest, at a loss for words.

“Yes. Just us,” he whispered in her ear, relishing the feel of her. She whispered the words back.

A strong gust of a wintry wind interrupted their blissful embrace. Both laughed, and Scott hurried to close the window.

“Was it worth it risking getting us sick when you shouted that I said yes?” Tessa teased him, with a kiss to the cheek. She shivered slightly, and Scott wasted no time to rub his palms over her arms and shoulders.

“I’d shout it from the rooftops, if you let me,” he said, his hazel eyes earnest.

“Well, good thing I have the presence of mind not to let you,” she laughed in return.

Sparks of golden mischief snuck into his expression. “Oh, but if you’re cold, I can warm you up.” The rubbing of her arms turned more sensual than enthusiastic.

A playful tug on his hair from her. “Please tell me you mean by making me hot chocolate.”

Scott leaned his forehead against hers, and her breath caught, because she realized she was now  looking into the eyes of not simply her boyfriend, but _fiancé._

“But of course,” he murmured, lowering his head to graze her lips with his. “Hot chocolate and _nothing_ _else_.”

Scott Moir the fiancé could joke and play around no worse than did Scott Moir the platonic business partner.

 

“ _TESS SAID YES?!_ ” blared a headline on the internet the very next day.

Tessa groaned, as soon as she saw it, and nudged Scott, so he could get an idea of what an uproar he unleashed with his bragging of their engagement.

He stirred next to her in bed, and pulled up next to her with a lazy smile. “What’s up?” he muttered absently, but that changed to rapid understanding once he glanced at the screen of her phone, in his face.

“Sorry, T,” he said softly, visibly cringing a bit.

Tessa rolled her eyes. “Yeah, except you aren’t.” She put her phone onto her bedside table and leaned back to him. “I just know you’re proud as _hell_ of yourself.”

“I am, Tess. I’m proud of _us._ And yes, we’re still going at our own pace with this. We don’t have to do any grand announcements. We can just -”

“-continue saying we’re business partners, of the platonic sort,” Tessa finished for him, rolling her eyes again and pecking him on the ear, with a purposeful smacking sound.

His sheepishness changed to affection. “Not what I was gonna say, but okay. Whatever my lady insists.” He wrapped his arm around her and cuddled her against his side.

Tessa sighed. “You know, one of these days, I’ll definitely kill you. That is, marry you, have a couple kids, snatch another medal or two in the future, and then murder you. In cold blood.” She bit his shoulder gently.

“You want kids?” He peered at her with some surprise.

“Well…” she traced invisible patterns on his chest with a finger. “After all we put each other through all our life, it’s fair that there should be two or three mini-us in the world.”

Scott kissed her. Slowly. Lovingly. As if they had all the time in the world, which was the newest and the most amazing feeling. “I’m game if you are,” her _platonic-business-partner-best-friend-fiancé-soulmate-person_ chuckled to that.

 

Together, they were game for anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your kudos and comments! They light my inspiration up <3 I haven’t been perfect at responding, for which I’m sorry. I promise to improve there!


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